The Candy Bar
by Kometfligen
Summary: Inspired by itoshiteru's Bartending AU, I decided to make a little fic. Bubblegum works as a bartender in a mellow place called The Candy Bar. On a "typical" Friday night, she meets some standout customers; in a good and bad way. M for alcohol abuse references.
1. Irish Red Ale and Sex on the Beach

_I am absolutely in love with itoshiteru (on Tumblr)'s Bartending AU where Bubblegum is working as a bartender, so I wanted to do a thing. This thing doesn't really ship, but the original art does, so check it out! The genre would be "Slice of life", if anything, but there's no such thing._

_Probably did an injustice, but hope you enjoy, and reviews are greatly appreciated!_

**I do not own any rights to Adventure Time or the Bartending AU.**

* * *

"Another shot of whiskey, please!", the usual slurred.

I took the bottle of golden emotional medicine and poured the right amount into a small, hard glass. I placed it right in front of the drunken fellow, who had his face resting on the cool, solid bar table, as if it were his only friend that would support him at the moment.

"Thanks, pretty lady.", he said in the most coherent way possible for someone who had twenty shots of the same strong fire and two mugs of cold, frothy ale to cool his burning throat.

He quickly shot down the drink and slammed the glass down. The shot glass was completely used to this kind of abuse, but his body wasn't. Soon after, he made a face that could only mean one thing.

"Guards, take him to the bathroom.", I said calmly. Two of them, clad in their yellow uniform, escorted the emotionally downtrodden old man with a bucket.

It was a typical Friday night at this place. It wasn't the kind of bar where college kids, underage and of age, would be partying. It was mainly for people who wanted to relax, drink their sorrows away, have a friendly chat, and so on. Those people were typically older men. There were some women but not too many around my age. So, imagine my surprise when one of them suddenly decides to walk in.

The bell over the front door rings and in comes that woman. It looked like she was either fresh out of college or towards the end of it. She saw the guards hauling off the poor drunk, and she made this devilish little smirk. It was like she enjoyed seeing someone in pain. That pale face of hers smiling like that made me slightly uncomfortable, but I didn't think much of it. She was just another customer.

This young lady took a seat at the far end of the bar, which was right next to the old jukebox. When she passed me, I took note of the shiny, wavy hair that blended in with the dark interior design of the bar.

"Can I get an ashtray? Oh, and a bottle of Sam Adams. Irish Red", she called to me.

After reaching into the fridge underneath the bar and grabbing her malty drink, I looked over to a small shelf next to the fridge and took a clean faux-crystal ashtray. I popped the cap open from her dark ale in front of her after I set down her ashtray. Wisps of cold danced around the rim of the bottle when I placed it on the bar. As I reached for an empty beer mug, she held up her hand and said,

"I'll just drink straight from the bottle. Thanks, hun."

She took a cigarette from a black box of Malboro, placed it in her mouth, and started patting herself down for a lighter, as if she were airport security. She even stood up. I laughed a little and took a stainless steel lighter from my back pocket and showed it to her. She stopped her search and smiled, giving me the "OK" to light her cigarette. I cupped my hands around the end of the stick of tobacco and tar and lit it. She took a deep drag from her cigarette and blew the thick smoke into the air. She then gave me a handsome half smile that showed slightly large canine teeth. In response, I put a lock of my hair behind my ear and gave her my "princess smile", as dubbed by my friends, who claim that I must've come from royalty after showing them that smile for the first time.

"Yoohoo! A Sex on the Beach, please! With a lot of ice!", a customer yelled from the other side of the bar.

As I started to make my way across, I noticed the girl taking a sip from her beverage and tapping her cigarette on the ashtray. I filled a Highball glass with ice, vodka, peach schnapps, a dash of lime juice, a splash of pomegranate juice, and a bit of grenadine. I'm starting to get good at this bartending thing. I stirred the drink with a small red straw and gently set the colorful concoction on a coaster in front of the old man.

"Good; good. Hey, how's about you and me make a 'Sex on the Beach', if you know what I mean.", he slurred after he took a swig from the tall glass. He set down the drink and tried to give me a persuasive look. It wasn't going to work, especially if he was growing a giant white beard. I simply smiled and flatly said,

"Thanks for the offer, but no."

He took another hard gulp and put the glass on the bar table with a little more force than last time. Some of the bright colors from the drink showed up on his beard, painting it with flecks of pink from the pomegranate juice and grenadine.

"C'mon! I'm not a _bad_ guy. Unless you're into that kinda stuff. Then I can be as bad as you want me to be, baby!", he hollered.

I put my hand on the bar and bent over to look at the man in his faded green eyes that were slightly shielded by his round glasses. His pupils were extremely dilated, so I figured he was just too drunk to know what he was doing.

"Ooh! I like where this is going.", he announced.

I sighed and yelled, "Guards!"

Two big men in bright yellow shirts immediate showed up on both sides of the drunk man.

"Call a cab for him.", I directed. The two men gave me a silent nod and took the man in the wrinkled blue suit by the arms.

"Call me, princess!", the drunk man yelled as he was being dragged out of the bar.

I love my job.


	2. Alcoholic Fortune Telling

I walked to the sink area near the jukebox where the dishwasher rang a little bell, telling me that I had more work to do. I opened the machine and took out a Tom Collins glass. The thing was still a little wet, so I took a rag and started hand drying it so there wouldn't be any water spots. I could feel someone's eyes recording everything I was doing. It was coming from Irish Red.

I looked over and smiled. She seemed a little surprised to see that I noticed, but she smiled back. I turned to her, still cleaning wet glasses.

"Need anything, sweetie?", I asked.

"Nah.", she answered before taking a small sip from her ale. She then placed an elbow on the bar and rested her head on a fist.

"Why didn't you call the cops on that creep?", she questioned.

I put a now-dried Old Fashioned glass back on the rack a few seconds after she finished her sentence.

"Well, he wouldn't have done anything. I could feel it; he meant no harm."

She grinned at my confidence and hit me with another question.

"How'd you know that? He could've been some sociopath for all you know."

Irish Red made a valid point; he could've pulled out a weapon and threatened to kill me or kidnap me on the spot, but. . .

"You can tell someone's personality by the drinks they order.", I answered.

The thin, lanky woman then raised an eyebrow. She took the small black box out of her black and red checkered shirt's pocket and grabbed another cigarette. This time, she pinched the filter, which made a peculiar crunching sound. I put a half-dry shot glass down and got my lighter for her. I lit her up again and went back to drying.

"How does what they shovel down their throats tell you about their personality?", she interrogated as she exhaled a stream of thick smoke. The smell of rich tobacco and minty menthol started to fill my lungs. Occupational hazard.

I gave the most honest answer I could.

"He ordered a 'Sex on the Beach'; a bit tart, a bit strong, a bit sweet, and a bit sour. He's fairly mixed in his emotions, but in the end, he just wants someone to love, as suggested by the name of the drink. Actually, for him, it seems like he's trying to find the person who once loved him because of all that ice."

The woman then burst out in laughter at the depiction of the stranger. There wasn't a way for her to tell if I was right or not if I used him as an example. To further prove that I wasn't being insane, I decided to change my subject.

"Then, let's take you for instance, Samuel Adams Irish Red."

After her fit of laughter, she gave me a little smile as she took another sip from her bottle. It seemed like she was very entertained.

"It's a very malty beer. Also very nutty. It leaves a slight chewy feeling in your mouth, but that's after the carbonation tickles your tongue a little. At the very end is a small, roasty finish."

Irish Red looked at me intently, wondering if my alcoholic fortune telling was actually accurate or an elaborate lie.

I continued with my predictions.

"It means that you're a very sweet, easy-going person, as told by the large amount of malt. Even though you are really mellow, you do have a lot of jagged edges because of the nuttiness in the ale. Perhaps those insecurities have something to do with your performance at work."

I noticed that she gave me a pretty large grin, which signified that I was right on my mark. She took another sip from her personality.

"You like getting under people's skins, teasing and tickling them. And after you're done playing around, you get chewed out by them. But in the end. . ."

I paused to take a small bowl of peanuts to a customer a few seats from the woman. I went back to the glass rack and took a Tom Collins glass for yet another customer. I finished my description before I went to the other side of the bar.

"You make up for it with a warm gesture."

With a large and embarrassed smile on her face, she crossed her arms on the bar and put her head down. Her cigarette was still burning in the nook of the ashtray.

I finished a regular's order and fulfilled a few more before I went back to the young woman. Her cigarette was crushed, and her bottle was empty. She watched me as I approached her side of the bar.

"So?", I asked, "Did I do well?"

"Ha! Yeah, you did!", she laughed. "Extremely well."

Curiously, I wondered, "Who was the person I described?"

"Marceline. Marceline Abadeer.", she stated.

After she finally told me her name, Marceline got up and took a few bills out of her wallet. She placed them on the bar, and from what I could tell, it was more than enough for her beer and tip.

"Keep the change", she demanded. Marceline then gave me that half smile of hers and said with her smooth and sultry voice,

"See you tomorrow."

* * *

_I got bored and made another. They had to have started from somewhere, right? It's still kinda friendship-like though. _

_I really like bartending._

**I do not own any rights to Adventure Time or the initial Bartending AU.**

_Check out itoshiteru's blog for the cute AU though! _


	3. Making Music and Bartending

_I really really really bartending. _

_I kinda wanna do one chapter for each drawing that itoshiteru does, so check out the blog on Tumblr and find what picture I used for this one!_

_Not that hard to find though._

**I do not own any rights to Adventure Time or the original Bartending AU whatsoever**

* * *

"Gin Sour! And don't forget the lemons!", shrieked an uptight regular.

"How many lemons this time?", I asked.

"Mn. . . Three.", he muttered.

I took out a small, Old Fashioned glass and set it on his coaster. His large eyes followed my hands' every movement to make sure that I made his order correctly. The first time I made an order of his, I put a little too much sugar in it, and he threw the glass at the wall, splashing unwary customers.

After I was done pouring and mixing, he stopped and inspected the glass before he took a dainty sip to test it. A small grin slithered across his face as he took more sips that evolved into gulps. Content with the work I had done, he narrowed his eyes in my direction, placed money on the countertop, and continued to enjoy the acidic beverage.

I took a grey bin that was stacked with used glasses to the dishwasher after I collected his payment. As I was filling up the old machine, Marceline asked,

"Yeesh. What's up with him? Sounds like he needs some help."

I guessed that 'him' referred to Gin Sour.

"He just comes off a little _too_ strong for some people.", I replied while starting up the dishwasher.

"What about you?", she inquired.

I placed both of my hands on the bar and looked at her in the eye. My eyebrows were tilted so I made an are-you-kidding-me? face. She gave me a little chuckle and tap of her cigarette.

It had been quite some time after Marceline first came to the bar; she had been coming almost every night since. I remember when she first opened those wooden doors, a gentle breeze poured itself into the bar, breathing some new life into the more tired patrons. Now, a small parade of dead leaves trail slightly behind her footsteps when she enters, making slight scratching noises as they caressed the chocolate-colored tiles and another mess for me to clean up.

In her usual seat next to the rainbow jukebox, Marceline took a few peanuts and popped them in her mouth. She then opened her mouth for another reason.

"Hey, Bonnie! Can I get a Cinderella? Hold off on the ice though."

I gave her a slight nod as I was pouring a few mugs of beer for other customers. I noticed that Marceline would occasionally come early in the evening on weekends, and if she did, she would only order virgin drinks. If she came later in the night, her entire menu, sans ashtray, would be comprised of alcohol. Although I was extremely curious, at this point, I was just happy to have her as a usual.

I placed the tangy tropical concoction in front of her along with her favorite garnish on this drink; two sections from a messy blood orange. The sweet blood dripped from the sides into the drink, which made it more red than it should be. She gave me a smile as she plucked the fruit section from the rim of the glass.

"Marceline, I have a question.", I asked.

"What's up?", she said, licking the red off of her fingers.

Curiosity made my tongue slip.

"Well, you always order virgin drinks when you come in early. Why is that?"

She licked the rim of the glass where the orange pieces were and took a small gulp from her drink. She sighed a little out of contentment.

"Can't have alcohol on the job, princess.", she replied.

Those words just sparked more curiosity in me.

"What do you work as?"

With a smirk, she said, "I make music."

Music? I felt like Marceline would be an art student, but music is an art form in itself. I put the conversation on hold to pour a few shots for a lonely grave digger, who had his day off every Friday.

"May I ask why you picked music?", I wondered.

"I love it; It's a way to express emotions that are just too complicated for words. It's also an amazing escape.", she answered as she took another sip from her glass.

As I was making a glass of Bourbon and Branch for someone else, I gave her a confused look. She smiled at my naivete.

"Basically.", she took a drag from her cigarette and continued, "Music is my refuge. I can crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness."

I smiled at how alike we were. I kind of know what that feeling is like. This bar is to me as what music is to her; I can escape the pressures and realities of my life and focus on helping other people through theirs either by talking it out with them or letting them drown their sorrows through happy, bitter drinks. I crawl into the space between the bar and wall of liquor and curl my back to self-satisfaction.

I gave the drink to the old customer, and he gave me a tired "thank you" along with a satisfied swig. As I went to pick up empty beer mugs and money, I saw Marceline head for the door. She waved her arm, took her coat from the coat rack, and left.

I wonder if she'll have more to tell me when she comes back.

* * *

_This was supposed to be a one-shot thing, but I guess not anymore._

_Reviews are greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!_


	4. Sweet Peppermint Schnapps

_I'm sorry for the late updates. School has been rough. Anyway, my fic is sstarting to deviate from the original Bartending AU, but check it out anyway. itoshiteru's Marceline tends to be fairly different from mine, or what I want her to be, but nevertheless, it is still really good!_

_Thank you for reading, and reviews are always greatly appreciated!_

* * *

Today was fairly slow but relaxing at the same time. A good amount of snow had made its home on the ground last night, so I wasn't surprised when not a lot of people decided to leave to go to this little bar. The customers that still came knew how great alcohol felt in the physical as well as emotional cold that ran through their bones. It was just a slow and quiet day.

Today was one of those days were Marceline didn't show. I had been so accustomed to her figure sitting near the jukebox that it was somewhat saddening if she didn't show up one night. I knew that she had no obligation to stay. My place is in here. Hers is out in the open. I sighed as I looked around the bar for something to do.

There was just one customer who sat in a seat so dangerously close to Marceline's. He was fiddling around with a slice of an orange until he finally said,

"One Hot Peppermint Patty, please."

His voice was shaky and in a very high, awkward pitch, but his speech was always polite.

"I hope you don't mind dark hot chocolate mix", I asked.

"Not at all, princess.", he replied.

I took out the hot water boiler and started on making his drink. Each liqueur streamed effortlessly out of the silver nozzles and into a clear Irish coffee glass. Their colors mixed gently as the darker shade from the creme de cacao softly enveloped the clear peppermint schnapps. A splash of green from a creme de menthe finished the alcohol from this beverage.

Dark hot chocolate, whipped cream, and a few shavings of more dark chocolate finally finished the adult version of a childhood favorite. I set the hot beverage down on a coaster in front of him.

"Thank you, princess.", he graciously said after he swallowed section of the juicy orange.

I smiled as my way of saying "you're welcome" and head towards the other side of the bar to let him drink in peace. Watching the snow from the wide window of the bar, I began to realize that I was looking for Marceline; waiting for her, wanting to see her slender figure trudge through the snow in a thick coat, heavy boots, and a fluffy scarf, warmed by her breath. I missed her.

"Excuse me, princess.", the shaky voice called out to me.

"Yes? What is it?"

"You seem rather upset tonight. Is something the matter?", he asked with the utmost concern.

Of all the customers, this one was one of my favorites. His unique voice always uttered the most polite and caring words when I needed them. I remember when he first came in, he was entirely naked and could barely walk right because he was so drunk from bar hopping, but now he has calmed down from his drinking days and got a job as a well-paid and well-treated butler in some well-to-do mansion.

"It's nothing. Just the weather."

I wasn't lying; the cold weather always did remind me of something unpleasant. However, I wasn't telling him the whole truth either.

"Princess, maybe you should get some rest. I _am _the only one in here. Maybe locking up early is the best option.", he suggested while taking the last, lukewarm sip of his Hot Peppermint.

He _was _the last customer, and waiting for Marceline at this point seemed futile, since the snow was supposed to pick up tonight. I could already see the winds pick up their speed from inside the bar. I thought about it a little more, silently praying that another customer or Marceline would come in and delay my leave. Not leaving now before the weather got worse would be the more illogical decision, and Peppermint knows that I don't make illogical decisions.

"I guess you're right. Let's lock up then."

He smiled and got up from his seat. His coattails gently followed him as he made his way to the back of the bar to help clean up his glass. Peppermint was so used to this because of his job as well as those nights where he owed me money for drinks but could only pay through physical labor. His hands were more careful and poised now compared to his earlier days. I smiled at the memory as I cleaned the top of the bar.

At first, it didn't seem like a good night without Marceline, but I remembered that I had a life prior to her. I would feel happy in different ways before meeting her. It was definitely a different kind of happiness, but it was still a happiness. I met so many people here that my memories of them along with the warmth that spills from their mouths from when they greet me to when they leave make this place feel like my home.

Home is where the heart is, and my heart is clearly in this warm bar, shielded from the frost that is the outside.


	5. The Red Devil's Black Magic

_I'm trying to find time to write these things, and that really only happens so often, but it'll probably be better around winter time. That being said, I am still trying._

_Reviews are greatly appreciated, and I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

"Bonnie! Let's make it rain purple up in hurr!", hollered the round, curvaceous customer.

It was my friend from high school, Lauren Saint-Pierre. Her looks definitely changed over time; her once slender body topped with short, bleach-blond curls was now well-rounded, covered in a dark tan, and enveloped in her impressive faded purple locks. Although her looks changed, her personality was still the same; confident, narcissistic, and explosive.

I shook the concoction and watched as she moved her hips to the rhythm I was shaking the bottle. She knew how I liked her outgoing personality and humor, and that's why she became my friend. I poured the sour drink into a glass and added more curacao to make it that shade of purple that complimented her hair and outfit.

She gasped as her eyes glittered with amazement.

"Oh my glob. This is the prettiest drink ever! I need to take a picture."

She rummaged through her star-shaped purse to take out her rhinestone-encrusted phone and flashed a picture. She was busily tapping away at her phone to load an app to send it to all her friends. After editing and captioning it that is.

"Melissa's gonna be totes jelly when she sees what kinda drinks you pull, Bon-bon! She's all like, 'Oh, girls can't make drinks good; only guys do it right.' But let's be real here 'cuz Melissa's a slut and only likes getting drinks from guys to get their numbers; am I right, or am I right, Bon?"

I giggled at the pace Lauren spoke in as well as her voice. The tone sounded all muddled, but her volume was loud. It was almost like she was the quiet one a long time ago but one day snapped and decided to become the loud and energetic queen that she is today.

"Ugh. This's too gorge to drink, but I gotta.", she groaned as she took a sip from the rich, royal purple drink.

I smiled and left my friend to enjoy her Purple Rain. The customers were a bit more lively today. Not many of them seemed to be drinking their sorrows away. It was around Christmas time, and there aren't that many people that are upset around the holiday. At least, there shouldn't be anybody.

"Hey, Bonnie. Can I get a Red Devil?"

"And a Black Magic!"

Two voices shouted from the end of the bar that I was trying to avoid. It was the end with the jukebox. I walked over there with the straightest face I could and got the glasses I needed to make their drinks. Marceline ordered the Red Devil, and Ash, her boyfriend, ordered the Black Magic. They were sitting awfully comfortably next to each other, moving the stools closer together so that their thighs were touching. They were just too close for my comfort.

As I poured the black vodka and grenadine into the ice-filled Tom Collins glass, I heard the small bickerings of a couple that would make any single person jealous.

"Stop, Ash! Not in public."

"I can't help it when you're this beautiful, Mar-mar."

"You have to! Just save it for tonight, hun."

I poured a red mess of alcohol into a cocktail shaker that was filled with ice for the Red Devil, and I just heard more of the couple talk that I wish I still had.

"Am I gonna get to do special things to you tonight, since it's Christmas time?", he smirked.

"N-no! What are you talking about anyway?"

Marceline made an embarrassed face that she would only make to Ash. When she was with him, her defenses were lowered. She wasn't the calm, cool person that she was when I met her. She was completely different. When I was shaking her drink and pouring lemon-lime soda into his, I was wondering; is this what it was like to be Marceline's lover?

"I mean. . ."

Ash leaned over to Marceline and started whispering something that only made Marceline's face as red as her drink. She buried her hands into her face for a moment and then whispered back into his ear. A satisfied smile grew on his face as Marceline rested her head on his shoulder, smiling and blushing as she put a hand on his lap.

Maraschino cherries on top of both the drinks, and I was done. I put the finished drinks on their coasters, and Marceline gave me a smile. Ash was looking at his phone and fixing his unique hair style. I smiled to Marceline and went back to Lauren. The air on that side was too thick with a kind of love that only made my chest throb with pain from a terrible mix of jealousy, guilt, confusion, and regret. This was the only mix that I couldn't stomach.

Lauren whispered to me once I made it back to her,

"Bon, you ok? I know that face, girl, and I don't like it."

I was surprised, since normally, I was able to hide how I felt from people, especially people like Lauren, but as narcissistic as she was, she had a sense of empathy lying around there somewhere in her.

"Yeah. Couples just make me think about you-know-who."

She took a final sip from her drink.

"Girl, it wasn't your fault. It just. Broke."

Lauren sighed and ran a manicured finger around the rim of the purple-stained glass.

"You needa get out more, Bon-bon. Trust me; I know. When I see Melissa and _Brad_, I get a bit jelly too, but'cha know what?"

She outlined her curves with her arms proudly and proclaimed,

"I got the _best_ lumps in the whole town, and Brad's just missin' out on _these_ babies!"

I laughed at her statement. Her sense of humor always brought me temporary happiness. I only told her half of the real story though. It was true that I always thought about that person whenever I saw a couple together, and it did always make me feel uneasy, but that alone wasn't enough to make me break from my usual calm demeanor.

It was the fact that it was Marceline.

* * *

_I may or may not scrap this chapter depending, but I wanna see what people think first, since this story was really about friendship, and I kinda liked it that way, but I'll think about it._

**I do not own any rights to Adventure Time or the original Bartending AU**


	6. A Bittersweet Pink Lady

_I did something. Not the end of Bartending AU though - at this point, it's very different than itoshiteru's original, but I found a way to bring it back to the original, which I may or may not do._

_(For those of you that are reading my other story, I'm really sorry about the lack of updates, but this story is really short and doesn't have a plot line that I need to follow, so updating this is easier at the moment.)_

_Reviews are greatly appreciated, and I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

A few days had passed since Marceline came in with Ash, and it was finally Christmas. The bar was always open during Christmas time. In fact, this bar was open during any holiday, since anyone could use a drink at any time of the year. It was just really empty. Too empty.

I sat at a bar stool for once. All I could see was the glistening wall of liquor in front of me, acting like the stained glass of a cathedral because of the lighting. I remember it being the most amazing thing when I first worked here, but now, this wall has become that silent but reliable co-worker during the hardest shifts at work. Normally, the light from the bar was enough to make this wall pretty, but the extra lights from outside made it even more spectacular in my eyes. It was like the wall prettied up for work because it was Christmas. Lost in my memories of when I first got a job here, I barely noticed the bell on the door ring. Surprised, I looked over my shoulder to see my first customer of the evening, Marceline.

The small, colorful lights from outside painted the background of the mental picture I took of Marceline at that moment. She was even more beautiful today than any other. She flashed her smile at me and started to take off her peacoat. I took a moment to get up and go to the counter, but as I stood up, Marceline instructed,

"Wait, Bonnie! Let me serve you today."

I complied and sat back down. I watched Marceline walk to my spot of the bar at a quick pace with great posture. She was wearing a red collared shirt with a black tie and vest. Her pants were ironed and a stark black. Her leather shoes were also black, but they were well-polished. From the looks of it, she probably just came back from a semi-formal party.

She put both hands on the counter and looked at me in the eye,

"What'll it be, Bonnie?", she asked in a warm tone.

There was obviously something wrong here, but I decided to go for it.

"A Pink Lady."

She smirked at me and replied,

"A Pink Lady for a pretty lady; comin' right up!"

I giggled as she laughed and walked over to get a glass. She took out a cocktail glass and brought it over to me. When she turned around to get the liquor off the wall, I got a good look at her hair that was black like charcoal but looked so silky and soft to the touch. I found myself admiring her beautiful and breath-taking appearance that when she turned back to me with the proper bottles at hand, I was kind of shocked. Those intense black eyes looked back at me along with a handsome and friendly smile that I've begun to know as Marceline's smile.

She poured each liquor and juice into an ice-filled cocktail shaker. She then got a carton of an egg white and poured it into the steel bottle as well. She started shaking the bottle, passing glances at me to see my facial expression while she was serving me for once.

Marceline finished shaking the drink, strained it, and poured the frothy drink into the cocktail glass. It slowly filled with a light bubblegum pink color and was topped with a little bit of white foam from the egg. She delicately placed a cherry so that it rested on the foam and pushed the drink to me. I looked at her face, and she gave me a proud smile. I said gratefully,

"Thank you, Marceline."

"No problem, Bonnie. I always wanted to do this for you.", she replied with a half-smile.

There was something off about tonight, and I didn't care if it got Marceline to make drinks for me, but I had to ask,

"How much did you drink tonight?"

"Noting much. Maybe, like, five or six cocktails of something or other. I dunno; all I know is that whatever they made at that open bar would've never compared to your drinks!"

Five or six of any mixed drink would set someone far beyond the realm of tipsy and stumbling into the world of drunk, and Marceline was no exception. I took a good look into her eyes as I sipped her mix and saw that her pupils were fairly dilated. Her version of the drink was a little too sour, so I couldn't exactly taste the alcohol, but it was made by Marceline. As I took sips from her version of a Pink Lady, she found and took out two sherry glasses and placed them in front of me as well as a bottle of sour apple schnapps and grenadine.

"Hey, Bonnie, where's the cinnamon schnapps?", she excitedly asked.

A smile escaped my lips as I placed the now empty cocktail glass down. I knew exactly what she wanted to do.

"Wanna make a Christmas Shooter?"

She smiled and nodded like an excited child. I could tell that she was drunk and happy. After all, it was the holidays.

I got up from my seat as the customer to get to my rightful place at the bar and took out a purposefully bent bar spoon and the bottle of cinnamon schnapps that I keep in a different spot because of how little I use it. It had gold flakes in it, which I felt was perfect for tonight. In goes a bit of the sour apple, which gives the green for the drink. Slowly adding grenadine gives us a layer of the bright, characteristic red to contrast our green. Finally, after placing the oddly bent spoon on top of the two layers, carefully adding the clear cinnamon schnapps finishes the small drink.

Marceline took a completed, layered Christmas Shooter and motioned for me to do the same. When I picked up the glass, she immediately interlocked our arms that were holding the drinks. It took me by surprise, and I almost spilled a little bit of the drink. She just laughed,

"Merry Christmas, Bonnie!"

I smiled and touched the rim of my glass with hers as a toast. We shot the drinks down our throats at the same time. The gold flakes just quickly touched my tongue and floated into my throat on the river of colorful alcohol. Each layer passed by my tongue in an order that just felt so right. The sweet spice from the cinnamon was immediately complemented by the tart sour apple. At the end was a sweet finish from the grenadine syrup to make a moment that tasted like Christmas. A heavy sigh signaled that I finished my portion.

Marceline had finished hers before me and had already placed the glass down on the bar, not letting my arm free. For a moment that felt like forever, we just looked at each other. I could feel my heart beating quickly, pumping the fresh alcohol through my veins. I thought my mind was getting cloudy from drinking so quickly, since it looked like Marceline's face was getting closer, but when I fixed my gaze onto her lips, I found out that it wasn't the alcohol.

The smell of sweet cinnamon that came from her breath brought me to the reality that she was a few inches from my face. Marceline pulled our bodies closer together, pressing the cold shot glass over my beating heart and crossing it as if I was making a pledge to enjoy this moment. She tilted her head and pressed her lips onto mine.

We both had the same thing to drink, but for some reason, the taste of her lips was sweeter than mine. Marceline pulled back slowly to get a little breath in and kissed me again. My lips just moved in accordance to hers. With each unpredictable movement that Marceline made, I gripped the glass in my hand harder. I took in shaky breaths whenever she pulled back.

Suddenly, after a few more of her sweet kisses, she just looked at me in the eye for a second and then slowly placed her head on my shoulder.

"Marceline?"

Her body then suddenly went limp, and my reflexes quickly held her body up so that she wouldn't fall to the ground. I heard her lightly breathing close to my ear. She had a lot to drink tonight; she was destined to pass out eventually. I held her sleeping body in place for a little bit as I started to get a grip on all that happened in a matter of a few minutes. Remembering that when people are drunk, they don't remember what they did the night before, I smiled as a bitter tear rolled down the side of my face. Marceline wouldn't remember what she did tonight, but I would, and the thought of that pained my heart, but after I looked once again at the wall of liquor that bathed us both in an array of bright colors, I remembered that it was my job to remember the things that customers here didn't; I was the bartender, and she was just another drunk customer. I held her neatly dressed body tighter in my arms and whispered into her ear,

"Merry Christmas, Marcie."

* * *

_Plot holes everywhere, but that's for next chapter to fill._

**I do not own any rights to Adventure Time or the original Bartending AU**


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